What The Heart Wants
by angie1379
Summary: "He was a part of her in every way, and she had finally opened her eyes to see he was always there, just waiting for her." Their night together after "Always"… I try to stay within canon based on Marlowe's hints at for the premiere.
1. Chapter 1

"He was a part of her in every way, and she had finally opened her eyes to see he was always there, just waiting for her." Their night together after "Always"… My story ends before morning and hopefully stays within canon based on what Marlowe hinted at for the premiere.

Disclaimer: I don't own them – I just write about them.

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**What The Heart Wants**

**Chapter 1**

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Kate felt him through her whole body – in her blood, coursing through her veins, filling her lungs, absorbing into her skin. He was a part of her in every way, and she had finally opened her eyes to see he was always there, just waiting for her.

She could feel his pulse beating at the base of his palm as it pressed against hers, and she knew his body vibrated with the same piercing desire she was struggling to hold in check. Yet for all the pounding intensity in his eyes, in his posture, and in the ferocious passion that exploded between them moments before, his first act upon reaching his bedroom was to gently stroke her jawline with his fingertips. The caress was feather-light, as if she were no more substantial than morning mist being carried away on a breeze. His fingers lingered there, so soft on her skin, almost too soft to feel, while his eyes searched her face, assuring himself that she was not some ephemeral vision that would disappear, leaving him standing alone in his room, broken and incomplete.

"Kate." Her name was a whisper, a breath he exhaled before bringing his lips to hers. She was real, and she came to him, tasting like the rain that still coated her skin, and returning every kiss with the intensity that had always defined her, but had never been channeled so truly. Her skin was cool to the touch from the downpour she had endured, indeed embraced, to get to this point. But heat continued to erupt between them, and everywhere he touched was ignited by the contact until the chill was just a memory.

They stood there kissing for a long time, both reveling in the wonder of finally giving in to this simple, timeless act. Had it only been minutes before that he had seen her name on his phone and determinedly pressed the end button, undeniably aware of the symbolism of his decision? He knew he hadn't been rejecting just a phone call, but her as well, and everything she stood for, that she made him feel, and everything they were, together.

His actions over the past month to convince himself he didn't love her paled next to true, devastating conviction, which is what he faced after leaving her apartment. He admitted to himself only this evening that he truly had been trying to punish – or at least provoke her – since the bombing case, when he learned she'd been lying to him about her memory. Because if he had wanted it to be over, he would have said good-bye. If he wanted it to be over then, he would have done what he did the night before in her apartment. He would have told her everything, would have been open and honest instead of acting out in hopes she'd make some kind of move that he was too cowardly to make himself.

But that was long over now. And here she stood, kissing him so softly, with lips pliant and wet beneath his. Over and over, her mouth met his, her tongue dipping and tasting while he offered back all he could. She stroked his face so reverently that he knew she felt the same sense of gravity at what was about to happen. Four years he'd felt this magnetic pull toward her, and for four years he'd resisted it, fearing those magnets would flip over and repel once they got too close. But attraction had become something so much deeper, so much more important than he'd ever imagined, and the possibility of losing it was the worst reality he'd ever faced.

But that bleak reality seemed light-years away as her lips whispered against his, "Castle, is this really happening?" A part of him wanted to smile, but as the same thought had been scrolling through his mind since he'd opened the door to find her soaked with rain on the other side, he just nodded in speechless affirmation and reclaimed her mouth with his own. His fingers tangled in her damp hair, and held her firmly against him. He couldn't get enough of her, of the feel of her mouth sliding and rubbing against his, her tongue hot and quick as it wrestled with his, the taste of her breath, the scent of her skin, and the touch of her hands as they roamed free along his neck and shoulders. They could spend the whole night doing nothing more than kissing like teenagers, and he would not consider a moment of it wasted. From that first, unexpected, and far too brief kiss more than a year ago, he'd known it could not be the last time. Everything about that moment had felt so incredibly right, and given the dire circumstances, that realization had come with no small amount of guilt. But guilt didn't change facts, and the force of emotion that plowed into him as Kate had taken his face in her hands and kissed him in his doorway only reinforced how deep his feelings for her went.

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To be continued …

Reviews are welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

"She arched into him and reached around to grasp at his shoulder, pulling him more fully on top of her." Their evening escalates as they finally give in to their love.

One more chapters remains.

Disclaimer: I don't own them – I just write about them.

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**What The Heart Wants**

**Chapter 2**

It was her shiver as he kissed along her wet hairline that finally broke the spell, reminding him that her clothes were heavy with rain. "You must be cold. How did you end up soaking wet?"

"It's raining outside." Her voice was soft as she simply stated the obvious.

"I'm aware of that, but what did you do, walk around the city in a thunderstorm?" His playful smile faded to concern when he realized by the haunted look on her face that his guess might not be too far off the mark.

"Something like that," she admitted carefully.

He brought her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her like he'd wanted to do hundreds of times in their years together. He had never seen her so open and vulnerable. The woman who stood up to leaders of gangs, faced down armed gunmen, and today, he had no doubt, looked into the eyes of the man who shot her in the chest at her captain's funeral, was holding on to him like a lifeline. If he had to choose a word to describe her, it would have been _raw_. Her fierce, indomitable armor had shattered like glass, revealing a woman who just wanted – just needed – to be loved. He could give her that, and so much more.

Castle could only guess at what she'd been through while he'd basked in his pride as a father and did his best to not think about her out there alone, hunting shadowy figures with lethal skills that far exceeded even her own intense training. He'd tried vainly not to imagine her, like her mother, bleeding out in some alleyway while he ignored her phone calls. He'd blocked out the fear that he would see her picture on the front of the _Ledger_ under the headline, "Detective killed in line of duty." He knew he'd never recover. But most of all, he'd prayed for some relief from the guilt of walking away, relief he had only felt when she came back to him, alive and choosing them.

She had led him to his room, holding his hand as a shy smile played at the corners of her mouth. She had made her decision, or maybe just finally accepted their fates were twined together. The sight of her bathed in the warm ambient light created a vision that made him catch his breath in awe, and Castle knew that in all of heaven and earth, there was nothing more right than being together with her.

He felt her shift against him so that she could raise her head and bring her mouth to his. Again, her hands found his face and she stroked and caressed his skin as if memorizing every detail.

"Kate -"

"Shh," she breathed, as she moved her hands to the top button on his shirt.

For once, he complied.

Slowly, she pushed small disc through the hole before descending to the next. Her wall was gone, reduced to rubble by the power of her own fear – but for the first time, that fear was not of failing to avenge her mother, but of dying with so much unsaid between her and Castle. And yet her presence in his room, in his arms, was not some reckless attempt to reaffirm life in the face of death. It was not guilt or fear that brought her to his doorstep, but love – the love he offered and the love she could finally return.

She'd fought so hard against her feelings for him, until she just couldn't anymore. It was more than attraction, more than infatuation, but for too long, she wouldn't let it be love. To love him – to love someone who looked at her like he did, who stood by her, challenged her, and made her feel so much – was terrifying. Her heart wasn't strong enough, which was why she guarded it so closely. But in the past year, that love had sustained her. It had given her hope that there was more to her life than a quest for justice, than the comfort she sought time and again, but always found cold and incomplete, at the grave of her mother. She believed for so long that all she had was an unforgiving headstone to remind her of her purpose and of all she'd lost. But there was more waiting for her. There was life and warmth, and a person of flesh and blood, not just a memory, who loved her and offered her everything she needed. All she had to do was reach out for it. Tonight was her acceptance. It was the benediction of everything she felt for him, everything she'd denied and hid away for so long. Tonight, she would give him all she had, and accept from him all he offered.

Under his shirt, his skin was warm against her palms. She marveled again that she wasn't backing away, wasn't hiding or running from what she felt. She was acting on it, and it was incredible. All she wanted in the world was standing in front of her, offering everything. Closing her eyes, she placed her lips to his heart and welcomed the emotions that swirled around them, so real and strong they were almost corporeal.

In an instant, the mood changed again. Rick's hands were swift and sure as they swept her shirt over her head. The damp material fell heavily to the floor, but neither noticed as his fingers traced her neck and collar bone to then skim down her arms. He leaned forward and brushed his lips along the same path, kissing his way to her shoulder and dragging the strap of her bra with him. In return she pushed his shirt down him arms until it floated to the floor behind him. She licked and nipped at his chest, moving up until her mouth found his. Behind her, he deftly flicked her bra open and then ran his hands along the uninterrupted line of her back, feeling every vertebra and quivering muscle beneath the smooth skin. The lacey black garment joined her shirt on the floor when he gently nudged her onto the bed. Instead of following her to the soft surface, he stepped back and took in the sight before him, meeting her eyes when she lifted them from his bare torso up to his face. Both their expressions were heavy and dark with awareness. It was a culmination they each had doubted would ever be realized. But the holding pattern had finally given way, and they were determined to savor every moment.

Stepping toward the bed, Castle alternately lifted Kate's feet and removed each shoe, then peeled her sodden socks from the still damp skin. Her toes were like ice from being enclosed in the rain-soaked boots. He held them in his hands until they absorbed the warmth from his skin, and then he began to rub her ankles, venturing under her pant leg to caress her calf as far as the material would allow. Kate sighed in aroused contentment as she lay propped on her elbows, watching him. Then she leaned back and lowered her hands to the snap of her slacks. When they were unfastened, Castle pulled them down her legs, leaving her clad in nothing more than simple black cotton panties. She was exquisite: toned and firm, all long limbs and soft curves that begged to be worshipped. The muscles of her abdomen and legs flexed and contracted as she sat up to reach for him. He caught a glimpse of the beginnings of a bruise blossoming across her side and back, and then his eyes narrowed in on the shadows at her neck and the raw skin on her fingers. He could only guess it was the result of whatever happened to her earlier, but as she opened the snap of his own pants, he resolved to ask about it later. She was alive, and the present was all that mattered.

Not waiting for her to continue her torturous efforts to remove his slacks, he lowered himself overtop of her and used his feet to kick them off, along with his own socks and shoes. If it was awkward for a moment or two as he wrestled with the clothes, neither cared; the end result was all that mattered. Finally, his silk boxers slid along her thigh as he moved to align himself with her body, awakening her to the strong evidence of his arousal. Looking down at her, he kissed one corner of her mouth before moving to the other, and then finally claiming the whole thing. She arched into him and reached around to grasp at his shoulder, pulling him more fully on top of her. Supporting himself on one arm, he used the other to dance his fingertips across her skin until finally settling at her breast, tenderly cupping it and rolling the peak through his fingers over and over just to hear her gasp and writhe at the sensation.

He moved his hand along her side, passing over the raised scar from her surgery until he encountered the soft cotton of her panties. Hooking his thumb into the waistband, he started to push them down, even as his mouth began a descent from her jawline, to her neck, stopping at the base of her throat to pay homage to the rapid beat of her pulse. He paused again to kiss the puckered circle on her chest before moving first to one breast, then the other, laving each with the warm caress of his mouth. Swirling his tongue and nipping at the peaks, he felt her hands fly to his hair and twine their way through the strands, struggling for control. It was a futile effort that caused a surge of arousal to course through him when she whimpered in surrender, knowing he could evoke such an inhibited response from a woman defined by her restraint. It was a journey he would happily take a lifetime to complete, and he knew this was only the first of many such explorations into the desires of Kate Beckett.

Eager for more of her, he tugged her underwear down her legs, then stood up only long enough to divest himself of his boxers. At the sight of him, Kate's eyes darkened and her lashes lowered invitingly. In a heartbeat, he was back on her, hands stroking along her body, trying desperately to touch everywhere at once, lips tasting skin, blazing a hot trail to her mouth. Instinct took over as sensations began to blur together. Hands and mouths competed in a frenzied battle for territory, and reason did not return until Castle found his hand between them, poised at her center. Her hips angled upward, pushing against him, and he claimed her mouth as his fingers stroked and touched her with equal parts reverence and urgency.

Kate's vision dimmed at his intimate caress. She bucked beneath him, her hands racing along his back, digging into his skin in a burning need for more. When the need became too much, she trembled and cried out, giving herself over to the explosive desire he so deftly elicited. Suddenly, the pressure of his hand was not enough, and she moved her palms swiftly across his hips to the part of him she longed to touch.

His breath caught, and he feared an immediate loss of control. Drawing on what little restraint he still possessed, Castle slid his hand first to her waist, where it clenched in response to the sweep of fingers across his length, even as her tongue darted along his collarbone. Then he determinedly grabbed her knee so that he could draw her leg up to encircle his hip. Finally, clasping her hands and raising them over her head, he leveled himself above her. Time slowed to a crawl, and he watched in awed fascination as her eyes rose to his, connecting with a fierce acknowledgment of everything they'd shared and endured together. Moments flashed through his mind – of Kate glaring at him from across a steel table when they first met; of her cradled in his arms succumbing to hypothermia; of her walking the red carpet in a blue cocktail dress that made his mouth go dry; of her tear-streaked face begging him for solace and absolution while their captain died to save her; and of that first taste of her on a cold January night, and the feel of her body clinging to his as their ruse turned for too real …

Her name was a prayer on his lips when at last he joined his body with hers. The enveloping heat surrounded him as he pressed into her and felt her arms snake around his neck, drawing her off the bed and flush against him. Their mouths fused, and their arms clung possessively to the other, while their hips rocked rhythmically in a timeless dance that carried them beyond reason.

She tasted the salt of his sweat when she kissed his shoulder, and she quivered reflexively when his fingers grazed her breast and returned to stroke the pebbled tip. Her knees gripped his hips and pulled him against her, matching him in this, as she did in everything else. They each gave and took, offered and accepted. When he slowed long enough to meet her gaze, she cupped the back of his head and drew his lips to hers, offering the kiss as affirmation that her feelings ran just as deep. But when she whispered his name on a strangled sob, he crushed his mouth to hers. The world exploded around her once again, but this time, she felt him find his own release, losing his grasp on reality even as he held her close and carried them both over the edge.

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Your reviews – good and bad – make my day. Please don't be shy.

Conclusion to follow soon.


	3. Chapter 3

And the conclusion …

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**What The Heart Wants**

**Chapter 3**

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The room rematerialized around them slowly and in time with the gradual fall of their heart rates. Eventually, Kate gathered what little strength she had to turn toward Castle and press her lips to his shoulder, which was the only part of his body she could easily reach. Then she lifted her hand to his face and caressed his cheek before bringing her palm to rest on his chest.

Castle reciprocated by reaching over her to pull her closer to him and turning slightly so that she was cradled flush against his side with his hands splayed possessively across her back. The intimacy of the moment was as potent and reaffirming as what they'd just experienced, and his awareness of that truth caused him to squeeze her to him ever so tighter. In response, she angled her head up just enough to meet his eyes, and in them she saw the same penetrating wonder that defined her own feelings.

Of all the millions of things he could say – some of which would make her laugh and lighten the moment, others that would fail miserably at capturing the overwhelming significance of the moment – he chose honesty.

"You were right." His voice was deep and raspy.

"About what?" she whispered back.

"I had no idea."

The fingers she was using to doodle imaginary patterns across his chest stilled as she considered his words. There was obviously some significance to them that she was missing, and she looked at him carefully, searching his eyes for a clue.

Finally, he obliged her. "After our first case together – Tillman, Trenton, something like that …"

"Tisdale," she supplied.

"Yes, right. Figures you remember that part," he said with a knowing grin. "I asked you out after we caught the guy, her brother. You declined – of course."

"Of course," she acknowledged, the vague memory coming back to her.

"Didn't want to be a 'conquest,' you said, and I said, and I quote, 'That's too bad, it would have been great.'

She heard his voice as it was that day as surely as she heard him in the present.

"Then you leaned in so temptingly, and whispered …"

"You have no idea," they finished together, as her memory crystalized of the two of them standing on the sidewalk while uniforms tucked their killer into the back of a cruiser after a brief stand-off that had infuriated Kate and delighted Castle.

She buried her face against his side to cover her embarrassment – at what she didn't know, but it was there nonetheless. "How do you remember that?"

"I transcribed it."

"You what?"

"When I got home that night, I wrote down everything I could remember about you – your mannerisms, your voice, your wardrobe. I made notes on things you'd said, observations and comments you'd made, wisecracks – threats." She stared at him wide-eyed, never knowing, or even suspecting, any of it. "Kate, that's how Nikki Heat was born. I wrote more that night than I had in six months. I couldn't get you out of my head." His voice lowered as he lifted her chin so that she could meet his eyes. "You hit me like a bolt of lightning – and I still haven't recovered."

The emotion in his eyes was too much, and everything she'd carried with her when she'd walked to his building in a torrential thunderstorm surged through her, bringing tears to her eyes once again.

"I'm so sorry, Rick, for so much." The weight was back, and making love had only heightened her emotions, stripping her bare of all defenses. She felt exposed and vulnerable, and not just because she was lying next to him, naked and humming with the afterglow of sex. She was open to him now in ways she'd fought against for so long. Yet rather than pull away, she wanted to hold him closer and feel his solid presence as a reminder that she didn't have to be alone. That was a new feeling for her, but she held fast to it. Still, she couldn't help but feel she didn't deserve it. She'd hurt him so deeply that he'd walked away, finally believing there was nothing to stay for, that she did not and could not love him enough to ever put them first, to even save her own life.

Shifting his position so that he was looking down at her and could bring his fingers to her cheek, he said earnestly, "Listen to me, Kate. It's over. We have a clean slate. A few hours ago, I was determined to exorcise you from my life, yet here you are, in my bed. And you know what, this is exactly where I want us to be. We both made mistakes, but if those mistakes brought us here, got us to this place, then I'd do it all over again."

She leaned up just enough to brush her lips against his, finally absolved by his words. "I couldn't let you go."

"I wasn't doing too good a job of it myself."

"I'm glad."

"Me, too."

He smiled down at her and trailed a finger from her lips, down her neck, and across her chest and stomach to curl at her hip. "You're everything, Kate. Everything."

She felt the heat creep into her cheeks, but she didn't know if it was from self-consciousness or arousal. She opted for the latter and raised herself up until their lips met.

"Why couldn't I do this sooner?"

He pulled back and looked at her. "Is that supposed to be rhetorical?"

She smiled. "Ever the linguist." She paused and considered what she wanted to say, a task that was made more difficult by his fingers repeatedly brushing the strands of hair from her cheek and tucking them behind her ear. "You know it's hard for me to open up. But I want to say this. You need to know that I've wanted to be with you, like this, for a long time. But I was so afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of messing it up. Of losing you. At least the way things were, I got to see you, talk to you. But if we did this," she gestured to indicate them lying in bed, "and it wasn't enough, if it didn't … work out, then I'd lose everything. That's why I lied to you. I wanted to be ready … to be sure. But you never know for sure, do you? No one does."

"Maybe not … but Kate, whatever this is between us, it's not ordinary. It's something else. Something bigger."

"It is, isn't it? Looking back, it feels inevitable. I just wish it hadn't taken so much for me to see that."

The kiss that followed was devastating in its tenderness, all soft lips and warm breath infusing them with everything words alone could not express. So much remained unsaid, remained unexplained, but they had time for that later. They had time to talk about the awe they felt at finally being together, the simple joy in the freedom to touch and kiss, and the overwhelming gratitude at finding their way together at last, against so many odds and in spite of so many obstacles of their own making. There was time for her to accept his love – and to tell him she loved him as well. So much.

But for now, she let her body speak. Just as that first kiss at his door was meant to say everything she couldn't – that she was sorry, that she was not hiding anymore, and that she truly, utterly wanted only him and nothing else – her kiss now promised him a lifetime of tomorrows.

They broke apart, breathless as much by the meaning behind the kiss as the kiss itself. But despite the gravity she felt, Kate could not suppress – did not want to suppress – the infectious smile that spread across her face. She was here, in bed with Castle. Finally. And it was more amazing than she could ever have imagined. Looking into his blue eyes, seeing his love in them, love she'd caught glimpses of but had always turned away from, she knew every challenging, heartbreaking, frustrating, agonizing moment that brought them to this point was unconditionally worth it.

And she was going to make the most of it.

"So is this what you had in mind when you invited me over for a movie marathon?"

He looked confused for a moment, until understanding dawned. "Wow, that _was_ supposed to be tonight, wasn't it?" Then her lips were at his ear, muddling his thoughts. "How quickly things change."

"Mhmm. Makes you wonder what would have happened if this case had just been a mugging or drug deal gone wrong." She kissed her way down his neck and leveraged herself up to reverse their positions so that she was looking down at him.

"I couldn't believe you said yes."

"Neither could I."

Their breathing became increasingly ragged as their heart rates accelerated once again. Castle took hold of her waist and slid his hands up and down her sides, letting his thumbs brush the undersides of her breasts on every pass. The need for more urged her on until she pulled herself on top of him, settling a hair's breadth from her destination.

"Is this how you wanted that night to end?"

Rocking her back until they joined together once again, he rasped, "You have no idea."

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The end … at least until September.

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Thank you all, very sincerely, for your generous words. This story started out as a compulsion and ended up as a tribute – to everyone who loves these characters and their love story as much as I do. As I said at the beginning, it's my hope that this story can fit within whatever canon Marlowe and his amazing team of writers devise for Season Five. This is not meant to be speculation, but rather a supplement to what we saw in the finale and what we will probably not get to see in the premiere. I hope you found it satisfying and worthwhile, and any feedback you care to leave would be much appreciated.

Thank you!

Angie


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